


Fever Dream

by aces_low



Series: drabbles and ish [23]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_low/pseuds/aces_low
Summary: Ray is sick, and he has no idea what Nate is doing here.





	Fever Dream

Ray must be having some kind of fever dream. Either that, or he’s completely misreading this situation.

He’s putting his money on the dream.

It’s really the only explanation for why Nate Fick is standing outside his apartment building, when it’s 3 degrees and snowing out, holding up a gigantic bag with the only explanation for what he’s doing here being that he’d heard Ray was sick.

Which isn’t a good enough excuse for him to have taken a two-hour train ride just to check in, at least not in Ray’s mind. Thus, he must just be suffering from delusions caused by the overheating in his brain.

That doesn’t change the fact that, imagined or not, Nate is still yelling at him.

“Are you gonna let me in?” Nate yells up to Ray’s open window. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

Ray looks back into his apartment for a moment to needlessly check on just how trashed his place is. It’s never exactly ‘clean’ by, say, his mother’s standards, or the United States Marine Corps, or any of his friends from school’s, or probably anyone with any level of taste. And it’s only gotten worse this past week while he’s been sick.

There are used tissues laid out on every surface, as well as a pile of them on the ground near his trash can. There are dirty dishes piling up in the sink and on his makeshift coffee table of milk crates and plywood.

And worst of all, he hasn’t taken a shower in over 72 hours, since the last time he tried to and was so weak from his fever that he’d been sure he was going to collapse and be found dead and naked the next morning.

He pops his head back out the window, watching Nate bounce up and down on his toes to keep warm.

“Uh, yeah,” Ray calls down, though his voice is still raspy and sore, he’s pretty sure Nate can hear him. “Just…wait right there, don’t move!”

There’s not much he can do about the dishes, but as soon as he has the window closed, Ray rushes around, grabbing every tissue he can, shoving them into the trash can. He doesn’t even get half of them in before the can is overflowing, and Ray kicks the clothes strewn across the floor into one big pile in the corner as he makes his way through his apartment.

He quickly applies some deodorant and finds a can of Febreeze that his mom must have left in his closet and sprays the apartment as he goes, and then sprays some over himself for good measure, before slipping his shoes on and throwing one of the blankets he’s been cocooning himself in over his shoulders and rushes down the four flights of stairs to unlock the front door for Nate.

Ray takes just a moment to appreciate Nate bundled up in an expensive looking coat and a knitted hat shoved over his ears, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold. He looks like he belongs in a winterwear catalog and Ray has no idea why that appeals to him so much.

“H-” Ray starts to greet him but is taken over by a massive, hacking cough attack.

Nate cringes in sympathy, and maneuvers past Ray in the doorway to get inside.

“Looks like you still have a fever,” Nate says, looking him over once Ray’s coughing quiets down. “You’re sweating.”

Ray nods. “Yeah, yep, definitely because of the fever.”

“C’mon, let’s get you back into your apartment, I brought soup.”

Nate leads the way up the stairs and Ray slowly follows on wobbly legs, he probably overexerted himself, he’s done more in the last three minutes than in the last three days.

“Uh, just a warning, it’s kind of a mess in there,” Ray says as they make their way to the door.

Nate turns back to look at him and grins. “Is that supposed to surprise me?”

Ray sends him a mock glare before pushing past him to open the door. Nate doesn’t look shocked or horrified when he walks inside, instead just makes his way straight to Ray’s kitchen to set his bag down.

He gets to work pulling out various cold and flu medications, a few styrofoam containers, a large box of crackers and a six-pack of ginger ale.

“So,” Ray says, shuffling into the kitchen and taking a seat at the small table he has in there. “What’re you doing?”

Nate stops pulling things out of his large bag and narrows his eyes.

“I’m baking a cake. Is it not your birthday?”

Ray rolls his eyes.

“I heard you were sick,” Nate says with a shrug, continuing to pull things out of his seemingly endless bag.

“I’m gonna guess either Mike or Brad told you. Those two gossip like they’re part of a knitting club,” Ray grouses. “Wait, _are_ they part of a knitting group? Can’t you just see those two sitting around with a bunch of old ladies, knitting scarves and gossiping about whatever bullshit?”

“How high is your fever?” Nate asks, completely sidestepping Ray’s knitting club theory. Which can only mean Ray is on to something, and Nate is hiding the truth from him.

“Well, I’m not hallucinating anymore, so I think we can say there’s been progress.”

“Have you been to the doctor?”

Ray shrugs. “I have the flu. What are they gonna tell me that I don’t already know? Fluids, rest, and over the counter meds should do the trick. There, I just saved myself a $20 co-pay.”

Nate doesn’t push the issue, just sets one of the thick styrofoam bowls and a plastic spoon in front of him before getting to work on putting all the other food into the refrigerator.

“Eat,” Nate says when he turns to find Ray just watching him.

Ray wants to ask why Nate is here, again, wants a better answer than he heard Ray was sick. Lots of people probably heard he was sick, that doesn’t mean they rushed over with a magical bag of never-ending flu remedies.

Instead, Ray just opens the container of soup and gets to eating, remembering that he’s only eaten half a piece of toast so far today.

Once Nate has finished unpacking his bag, that apparently does have a bottom to it, he immediately rolls up his sleeves and gets to work on washing Ray’s dishes.

Ray would argue, but he knows it won’t do any good, and it’s one less thing he’ll have to worry about.

He’s only able to eat about half of the soup before his stomach has had enough, though it does feel nice on his throat. Nate frowns when he turns to see Ray has stopped eating, but he also must see the pain Ray is in because instead of trying to make him eat more, Nate just covers the bowl up again.

“Go lay down and I’ll make some tea.”

“I don’t have tea,” Ray says, contemplating just resting his head on the table, right now he thinks it’s probably the most comfortable place in the world, and definitely beats having to walk the ten feet to the couch.

“I brought tea,” Nate assures him, which Ray really should have guessed.

Ray tries to stand up but quickly realizes he’s used up all his energy barely cleaning and going up and down four flights of stairs, which Nate can apparently see because, without a word, he wraps an arm around Ray and helps him stand.

He wouldn’t say he is intentionally breathing Nate in because that’s kind of a weird thing to do and his nose is stuffed up enough that his sense of smell isn’t that great anyway, but he seems to have found himself with his nose pressed up against Nate’s neck.

Nate doesn’t seem to think anything is odd though, and instead of telling Ray to keep his nose to himself, he just leads him over to the couch, helping him sit down and throwing another blanket over him when he lays down.

Ray closes his eyes for a second and then feels what he can only assume are Nate’s fingers combing through his hair.

He’s about to open his eyes, to catch Nate in the act, to make him fess up and admit that Ray hasn’t been the only one feeling something more between them than a growing friendship. Only, it feels so nice that he keeps his eyes closed just a little longer, enjoying the feeling of Nate nearby.

 

When he finally opens his eyes, the apartment is dark, except for a faint light coming from somewhere behind him, and Nate is not sitting beside him.

Ray slowly blinks his eyes open and sits up, wincing at the slight ache in his head from how full it feels. He looks around the apartment for a moment, nothing looks different and he realizes it really must have just been a fever dream. And isn’t that pathetic? Now, he’s dreaming of his old lieutenant, turned friend, turned unfortunate crush, coming to take care of him for no reason but the goodness of his heart or whatever.

He scrubs at his face and sighs. It’s 3 am, and he’s not sure what time he fell asleep, but he’s pretty sure the fact that he slept what he assumes was at least a few hours, is a good sign. His muscles still ache as he stands up from the couch, but it feels less like he could collapse at any minute.

He’s just slowly trudging his way to his bedroom, brain still in a tired haze, when he passes the kitchen and stops, realizing something is off. It takes him a few seconds, but then he notices it, his sink is empty, no longer overflowing with every dirty plate, bowl and utensil Ray owns.

With that, he picks up speed toward his bedroom and stops when he sees Nate fast asleep on his bed. He’s on top of the covers and he has a book open under his hand, and Ray honestly doesn’t know if he’s still dreaming or not. He kind of hopes that if he is, he just stays that way.

He stands and watches Nate sleep like the creep that he is for another minute, before realizing he definitely doesn’t want to be caught like this, so he turns and makes his way back out to the living room.

Only, as he turns, his foot gets caught on the blanket he’s wrapped himself in and, in an attempt to keep from falling, he overcorrects and slams his shoulder against the door.

Nate immediately pops up from the bed looking around the room for the threat. As soon as his eyes land on Ray his defensive stance falls and he frowns.

“Oh, shit, Ray, I’m sorry,” Nate says, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that.”

Ray shrugs. “That’s ok, sorry I woke you up.”

“How’re you feeling?” Nate asks, climbing off the bed and taking a few steps toward Ray. He rests his hand against Ray’s forehead before he even has a chance to answer.

“Uh, fine, about the same I guess,” Ray says, trying to ignore how close Nate is and that he’s definitely touching him.

Nate nods. “Well, you’re not nearly as hot as you were last night, so that’s good.”

“I’m always hot, you know that,” Ray can’t help but say with an exaggerated wink.

It’s worth it because it makes Nate grin, and shake his head.

“Alright, let’s get you into bed,” Nate says, gently wrapping his arm around Ray and leading him back toward the bed.

“Wow, not even gonna take me on a date first? Who raised you?” Ray jokes, voice somewhat slurred as he feels sleep trying to take him over again.

“How about after you get better,” is Nate’s distracted response as he pulls the covers down and helps Ray get into the bed.

Ray lets his head sink into his pillow, still a little warm and smelling like Nate and Ray doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he rubs his face against it.

“I’m holdin’ you to that,” he finally says, too tired to open his eyes back up and insist, but he knows his more conscious mind will never forgive him for not jumping on this.

Nate tucks Ray in, brushing a hand over his hairline, and Ray can swear he hears Nate say, “I hope you do,” before he drifts off again.


End file.
